in the wild

New Zealand take two.

When it was good, it was fucking amazing.  When it was bad, it was pretty damn shitty.

But I'd like to think... "now I know."

I've been trying to journal each day, and while I'm not that far behind, in the end I just don't write as efficiently as I type.

Better process it all before it's scratched and faded.

Sorry for the more-detail-than-you-probably-care long post.  And sparse pictures (Amelia forgot her camera charger).

Planning is a bitch.  I hate planning.  And I try to avoid it as much as possible.

I thought we were in the clear once the day came around.  Minus the fact that I had no idea where I was going and who I was staying with.  But after that, sure, everything will go very smoothly.

It helps to have friends who have friends who have friends in NZ.

After many awkward messages (to unknowns I thought were 24 or thereabouts, awkwarddd), half a bag of dried apricots, and a four hour nap in the Christchurch airport later... I finally ended up at the better of the two party houses (we'll get to that).  Between the lack of sleep and attention and the struggle to pick out a new accent, I'm pretty sure I was damn boring just sitting on their couch looking up car rentals and trying to blog while one of them sang about a Julia.

Lesson number one: always check the date of the transportation you are booking.

The day was spent brainstorming things to do in thrilling Christchurch (reminded me of being back in Chapel Hill): the nice park aka botanical gardens, driving around looking at what we could've done before the earthquake, and Skyfall, which fell through because NZ is just so behind the times.

Wait, also gotta insert a plug about how the boys were just a bit obsessed with Macklemore - it comes into play... literally... for the rest of our trip.

Sleep was further postponed because we had to rise early to pick up Sydney and rent a car.

Finding Syd was easy... getting temperamental Sunny took three tries.

The first time required a booking online.

The second time was a no go because Omega had too many cars in Queenstown, and we had to drive it back up to Christchurch to rent it at all.  Transportation obstacle number one.  Transportation obstacle number two was canceling the Nakedbus we already booked.

The third time was the next day, which ended up being a better and cheaper option anyways.

Thank you Nick for chauffeuring us around and putting up with how long it took us to grocery shop.

Lesson number two: always buy the cancellation protection.

Now would be a good time to mention how poorly I ate.  Essentially, the oatmeal and chocolate chips I packed from Melbourne was the fancy food.  On the menu for the first two nights, baked beans with toast and canned fruit.  Oh and that delicious chicken and herb meatloaf slice that looked questionable (to put it lightly)... but it was $1, okay?  Made better by the honey mustard and cheese we found upon raiding the boys' fridge (amongst three jars of jam and rotting veggies - should probably throw that out, huh guys?)  I know Alicia and Sam were damn jealous when I Skyped them during dinner.  Sydney lived off 95 cent pasta with packaged soup mix, not a bad idea if anyone wants to try budget living.

Anyways, day two was a much needed day of sleep and lazing on the couches in front of the TV, feeding our Internet addiction.

Car crash probably avoided right there.  If not our own good judgment (good judgment being the fact that we were falling asleep on the ground while trying to plan our new route), then the large road signs that say "Drink DrIvE" or "Live" in the left lane and "Die" in the right lane.  NZ has pretty graphic ads.  Thank you free coffee at the hostels.

Oh right, I can drive on the left side, bitch.  Putting that on my accomplishments list.

Road tripping in the south island was quite stressful as drivers were getting aggressive and impatient with us.  Fuck that one lady who basically almost killed us, a motorcycle in the other lane, and herself.  And that dude who insisted on honking and passing Syd while we were doing hairpin turns along a fucking mountain.

 Day three was off to Franz Josef glacier by 8pm to make our hostel booking.

 First stop along the way, Arthur's Pass, where we thought we were doing a quick 30 minute walk up to Devil's Punchbowl Falls.  What lies.  They forgot to mention all the flights of stairs, and let's just say our 30 minute pit stop turned into an hour one.  Delirium set in as we crawled back to the car, and we were attacked by two curious kea birds as I finished off the last of my delicious chicken meatloaf (remember, it had herbs in it...). The Cujo-birds were bouncing around on Sunny's roof, trying to get in through the window - I guess I shouldn't have taunted them with my sandwich.

Made it to Montrose Backpackers in Franz Josef with 20 minutes to spare.  [Andddd that's going to be the best time we make for the entire trip.] We spent the night exploring the little town and eating baked beans and pasta since the next morning was going to be an early one if we wanted to beat the cloud cover.

We hiked the three trails the receptionist recommended.

1. Peter's Pool - baby lake with a beautiful reflection of the mountains.

2. Sentinel Rock Walk – where we encountered the sweet old couple (one of many) and the man who walked a little bit like a duck managed to beat us to the top after leaving his wife behind.

“Where did he go?!?”

“I’m pretty sure we passed him.”

*See man leaning over the railing at the top, enjoying the view like he’d been there for hours.*

3. Franz Josef Glacier Valley Walk – reminded me of the Land Before Time walking out in the open surrounded by mountains and white rocks…though I couldn’t tell you why because I don’t remember any glacier scenes.

Lesson number three: check out is 10AM in NZ.

Next stop on day four was the Blue Pools around Mt. Aspiring.  The crystal clear turquoise water reminded me of Jiuzhaigou in China (Oh, I wanna go backkk).  And the weather was getting too hot to deal with in leggings.  Good signs.

Otherwise known as the location where I would get my eleven bug bites that periodically popped up over the course of the trip.  I was attacked and eaten alive while trying to dry my feet.

Lesson number four: don't strip down to summer clothing and run into freezing water without a quick getaway plan.  Or always keep a Joelle on hand so the bugs can attack her first.

We made it to Nomads (kind of felt like a college dorm) in Queenstown around dinner time.  Our hunger and lust for free food lead us directly to the kitchen upon check-in, which is where we first stumbled upon Kevin and Jordan playing a trivia game.  Talk about good timing.

Lack of free food and continued hunger lead us to Fergburger at Kevin's suggestion.  Best.  (Two).  Meal(s).  Ever.

Went for the Big Al, which was in bold in the center of the menu.  The guy's comment when he gave me my order: "You're hungry huh."

 Two patties, two eggs, lots of cheese, all the burger fixings, and of course beetroot all smushed between two buns that were the circumference of my face (on the right).  It was quite difficult to consume.

  Lesson number five: cold burgers stay together better.

 The rest was eaten the next day, which happened to be Thanksgiving back in the States, so it was appropriate.  Kevin almost finished the Big Al in one sitting.  I'm almost impressed.

Blank stares and food babies were had by all - still no comparison to an American Thanksgiving, but it'll do.

Before the make-do Thanksgiving meal, we worked up an appetite on an hour long jetboat ride around the lake in Queenstown.  Wait, I feel like I should mention that that shit was free.

"That was so..."

"Free?"

One of the drivers needed test subjects, so to speak, to finish up his license, and ten lucky Nomads residents could sign up, so naturally Kevin darted downstairs immediately during breakfast.  I think I was too busy freaking out about car rentals and Fiji to comprehend what was going on until it was actually going on.

The jetboat ride was pretty amazing (not regular price $119 amazing... but free amazing).  The houses along the hills along the lake were modern and glass and nice and I wouldn't mind owning one one day.

[Wait, sorry, did I forget to mention that the jetboat ride was free?]

After the boys left to go pick up Ben, Syd and I decided to be active and adventurous and nap and eat our free dinner of mashed potatoes and chili... I'm not finished yet, and walk to the top of Queenstown Hill.  By walk, I mean hike, and by hike, I really mean drag my fat ass up a nearly 90 degree mountain.  1.5 hour return?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Who is so athletic that they can finish that ridiculous climb in 1.5 hours.  It was pretty creepy walking through the trees when the sun was hidden behind the clouds (not setting, as we thought - the sun just never sets there); I felt a little bit like Snow White running from the huntsman (the original animated version, mind you). Stopped at the Basket of Dreams to crawl in and rest and take in the view of the city on the lake.  I felt like it was one of those landmarks where you are supposed to leave something behind, and all I could find were my seven placebo pills.  So there are seven wishes (or... dreams, I guess?) on each of those sugar pills at the top of Queenstown Hill just waiting to come true.

We never made it to the top, though we thought we were close.  Syd made a video prematurely, and I ran up ahead of her in hopes that the summit was just over the mountain.

Nope.

Only the lovely site of the trail continuing up and along yet another steep hill.

We gave up after that happened again and proceeded to side shuffle all the way down the mountain.  Workout enough to last me the rest of my life.

Lesson number six: always stretch after exercising - this will prove a problem later.

We were up bright and early, yet again, to make it to our skydiving appointment.  It could not have been a more perfect day, even the orientation dude was jealous.  I sort of had no feeling or opinion of anything until we were actually flying up in the plane when I got a bit nervous after I realized I would go first because I was seated snug up against the door.  But then the door was slid open, and I was suddenly in freefall trying to simultaneously retain the banana pose as they demonstrated and maintain eye contact with my camera man (most awkward pictures ever by the way - they probably won't see the light of day after I show my dad).  I can’t even begin to express how worth the money it was – only wish freefall was longer.  The best part was gliding down, looking at the mountains, fields, and water all at the same time.  The sheep looked like lint against the green, and the lake looked absolutely photoshopped.

Reason why Sydney finally decided to dive with me?   Her horoscope.  Libra - put all of your eggs in one basket.

After another break in free wifi land, Syd and I took advantage of the free bike hire at the cheaper hostel (Black Sheep) we moved to for our last night in Queenstown.  I haven't been on a bike in many... many.. years... maybe like five years?  Feels more like ten years.  The first bike was no good because my stubby little legs couldn't reach the ground, and the second bike fit but it was a reach and my thighs were about to collapse from the strain considering I didn't stretch after our hike, so Syd and I had to trade.  We only did a measly.. 10 km or so?  Which felt like an accomplishment until we came across two men who were headed to Arrowstown as we were looking at a map.  Let's just say our trail was about an eighth of their intended trail.

My crotch was in pain for the next two or so days.  Sitting was a challenge.

Joelle was due in at 6pm, and we were a tad late going to pick her up.  I decided to be funny and yell her name, thinking she wouldn't hear anyways.

"Yeah?" came the answer from the public bathroom right beside us.  It was kind of funny, trust me.

Jojo and I headed to the Minus 5 Ice Bar with a 2 for 1 deal after dinner.  When we got there, the cute Finland bartender told us they were booked out due to Pub Crawl Night, so we were left with two options: sigh and leave… or stand around and stare at the staff (aka pulling a Sydney) until they felt awkward and sorry for us because it was our last night in Queenstown.  Luckily, we were able to spend about half an hour in the bar between pub crawl groups during which we camera whored like crazy, taking pictures with every statue and the wall of Absolut behind the bar.  I wanted to keep the cup... too bad ice melts.

Lesson number seven: don’t take no for an answer.

Day seven started with casual wondering through town in an effort to find the garage sale we saw advertised the previous day.  Everything was basically a dollar, and there was a cute old people band playing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" including two accordions.  Adorable.  We stumbled upon a craft market where a man's bottle clocks caught our eyes (I don't care what the Christchurch boys say, they are still going to be the coolest NZ souvenir anyone's getting), making us about an hour late to pick up Izzi.

We took our first group pictures at Lake Hayes.  Not Arrowstown Lake as the information desk lady so condescendingly pointed out to us - she even opened up a tour book and pointed to the word's, reading them out to us like five-year-olds, "Lake...Hayes..."  Thanks, ma'am.

"You guys, we actually look like friends” was Syd’s helpful comment after our photoshoot.

We try our best.

And "let's take a nice picture" turned more or less into a "funny" one.

Drove onwards to Mt. Cook.  The landscape unrolled in front of us like an edited tourist video.  Too breathtaking for words.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over how gorgeous New Zealand’s landscape is.  With limited time and less than fit bodies, we did the Hooker Valley walk to the second swing bridge.  Skydiving was not a problem, but tiptoeing across the bridges over the running water lead to tenseness, a pounding heart, and unhappy fantasies of falling over the edge.  I am not a fan of heights.

On the way back, we ran into an older lady (probably around here fifties?) who informed us that we made her feel better about herself because she came from the end in 20 minutes, while we had been struggling for nearly two hours on a trail intended to be an hour long.  Forgetting the tramping lady, we were headed to Lake Tekapo (pronounced TEE-kah-poh… not Teh-KAH-poh… definitely not Teh-PAH-koh) for a well-deserved hot springs soak.  What with all that hard work and sweating we just did.

Lesson number eight: you are probably not pronouncing anything correctly if you’re from the States.  We received a short lesson on places and names from the Christchurch boys.

This time we made a record time of about five minutes before the first hostel (YHA) we stumbled upon closed.  Sydney and I darted in to be greeted by the master of all dicks.

“Hi, we want to book four beds for the night.”

“Well, is there someone you don’t like as much?  Because we only have three beds.”

Would’ve been kind of funny if it wasn’t for the fact that our attempted at light hearted laughing was greeted by his stone-cold serious face.

“Um…”  Why, yes sir.  We do happen to be traveling with one bitch we’ve been trying to get rid of since the beginning…  Are you fucking serious?

He was halfway decent enough to call another hostel for us.  All booked.  “Are you sure there isn’t someone you like less?”

Still not funny, dude.

And the third hostel he called had two beds, so we seemed to have no choice but to split two and two, which proved a hassle because the hostels looked quite a ways apart judging by the map and no one had a functioning phone or access to Internet.

  Well, Joella and Izzi ended up checking in at YHA while Syd and I drove the whopping two seconds over to the other hostel.  The receptionist lady there ended up offering us two rollaway beds, so it was a mad dash back to YHA during which I so gracefully parked the car on a slant on the lawn.  Master of all Dicks refused to give us a refund because he shut the computers down already and apparently couldn’t restart them as he dilly-dallied around the office for the next half an hour or so.

I guess his stubbornness turned out to be one of those blessing in disguise moments because we decided to be passive aggressive and obnoxious and eat dinner at YHA (which is where we ran into the tramping lady again) instead of the other hostel.  Good thing, too – we scored a bag of nice toasted muesli, lasagna noodles, two jars of pesto, a jar of tomato paste, a tub of butter, and mixed dried herbs for dinner.

And Izzi met her awkward Canadian friend who was on his way to an awesome adventure (aka he booked a star gazing tour, so we couldn’t come with), and we were dying for an awesome adventure since all the hostel hustle and bustle mess caused us to miss out on the Tekapo springs, which was also kind of a blessing in disguise because we found a free one later.

Ended up spending the night just chilling once again because we had to wake up sunrise early… once again.  On the walk back to the other hostel, we ran into tramping lady again.  The high pitched sound of “Hi girls!” has never been so creepy.  Syd and I missed the sunrise we intended to watch because we didn’t have Izzi’s Canadian friend to rouse us at 5am – “I didn’t know how to wake you without being creepy.”  But I saw a mother duck with her many ducklings waddling around the parking lot, so it’s all good.

Returned the car with ten minutes to spare (fireworks, bells, celebration!), which gave us a whole entire day in Christchurch, complete with perfect beachy weather.  How did we decide to spend it?  In the guys’ living room watching Beetlejuice and “New Zealand’s Got Talent” talking about eyebrows whilst Izzi napped after giving up on trying to get us to do something and Nick played his word game pretty intensely until after Ben and Nathan arrived.

Feasted like royalty on free beef ramen, gravy mix and tomato paste – you’re salivating now, I can tell.

Lesson number nine: the best days are often lazy days, anyways.

All that sitting around gave us enough energy to drink into the night and into the morning (before a refreshing two hour nap before waking up at 6 for our 7am flight to Wellington).  It was Kiwis versus Amurika game night, and maybe I don’t remember all the details, but I’m pretty sure it got a little bit intense, a little bit high school, a little bit…we win at life; playing pong, kings, 21, and my personal favourite… the box game (I’m still so impressed with the guys’ flexibility, so unbelievably impressed).  Got a nothing-short-of-professional private Macklemore concert with groupie dancer.  Blasted “A Thousand Miles,” JBeibz, and T-swizzle, all of which Nick knew the lyrics to.  Spilled food and drinks all over myself, as per usual.  Watched Izzi get a little be giggly and emotional (over Marcel the Shell) off dots.

I wasn’t drunk in the slightest, but I’ve never laughed so much in my life.

And the next morning was about as miserable as the previous night was entertaining.  We were a mere ten minutes late to check-in, which meant throwing down $100 for Jetstar to change our flight, taking us into transportation obstacle number three.  This airline is seriously killing me.  Unrealistically high hopes that I’ll never have to fly them again.

Lesson number ten: what goes up must come down?

Made it to Wellington, disgruntled and looking at our best I’m sure…and happy to be away from the bitch flight attendant.  Maybe it’s just a side effect of getting the emergency row seats.  Picked up pretty little Roxy, who was far more agreeable than Sunny... and automatic windows and locks!  It's sad how excited we were for that.  Wellington was in quite the Hobbit spirit, which I would’ve appreciated more if I remembered the one and a half movies I saw.  Same goes for Weta Cave.  I sort of can’t believe that there are fans out there who are willing to spend thousands on figurines and props and such.

Finding Kevin, Jordan, and Ben in their super inconspicuous Wicked van was priority number one come around six o’clock, and I began to think the search was going to result in a lot of hopeless waiting, driving back and forth along the docks, wasting gas and money and time.  So it was a pretty good thing that we ended up in the front on opposite sides of a traffic light.  It was the Wicked van we saw first.  Then the three heads.  Thought we’d take a chance and try to get their attention.  And the sight of a ukulele in the middle basically confirmed it.

Seven uni kids were seen having a mature and intellectual stroll through the Botanic Gardens, especially that extended pit stop at the playground before searching for that rose garden.  NZ playgrounds are far more risky than the ones I grew up with.  I remember having to wait in line at the swings, the teachers on recess duty with their stopwatches and whistles at the ready.  We never had a seesaw, as innocent as it is, and we certainly never had a zipline.  Not a real one anyways – ours was newly installed when I was about to “graduate” elementary school; it was basically a bar on a glide with a seat and more recess duty teachers on guard.  We most definitely didn’t have a five way spinning swing that allowed one person to run hard into the center pole when everyone else hopped off (haha, Joelle…).

We kind of circled the same things – never found the rose garden but stumbled upon a succulent garden instead, which was suspiciously close to a neighborhood at the bottom of the hill, but given that we paid $6 for a roundtrip cable car ticket that took all of five seconds to get from point A to point B, we climbed back up to the top to ride the thing back down.

We parted ways after a quick stop at McD’s for ice creams and Wifi.  And what came next was kind of scarring.  Remind me to contact a therapist when I get back to school.

It was just so bad that the next day, we didn’t immediately remember that we had spent a night in Wellington.

This time it was Izzi’s friend of a friend of a friend of a friend.  Of a sibling is involved in there somewhere.  It took an hour of walking up and down the dark streets and many stairs, but we finally found it (should’ve known houses wouldn’t be numbered conventionally on a hill), and from the outside it looked fine with a damn nice view of the city. 

The inside was exactly what you might expect of a house of six dudes.  All I wanted was a shower after a good day or two without one, so while I waited for one of the guys to clear away his laundry from the area we were meant to sleep in, the others went into the kitchen where I immediately heard Sydney laughing.  Greeeeaaaattt…

“Can I shower?”

“Um, yeah.  It’s through there.”

“Have you seen the kitchen?  It’s about the same as the kitchen.”

“Oh, no.  I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah, you might want to use the first one on the left; it’s the nicer one.”

Syd accompanied me through the door which shut behind us (key detail) to the bathroom, and my desire to be clean suddenly disappeared.  There really are no words.  I’m glad we have Kevin’s testimony (“There’s shit everywhere and there’s shit growing on that shit…and then there’s shit growing on that shit”) because I feel like anyone else would just hear four girls bitching.

So Syd and I spent a considerable amount of time in the bathroom, during which I tried scanning the place for somewhere to put my change of clothes.  No luck.  A peak into the bathtub, and I sort of feared something would come creeping up the drain the minute I turned on the water.  I just…couldn’t.  It couldn’t be done.  I’m surprised I managed to brush my teeth (and I dealt with my contacts at our designated couch area).  On the way out, we embarrassingly thought we go locked in the hallway, and stood there (“Don’t lean against the wall!”) laughing uncontrollably for a few minutes before knocking.  “Just push it,” came the response.  “Oh…” as the door creaked open.

So I guess I had to go to the kitchen.  Which is about where I lost my appetite.  Perfectly content with eating my canned peaches after staring at the can opener for awhile…and only after I watched Jojo use it first.  And yes, I think we did share two clean bowls and a couple utensils between the four of us.

“I’m so glad I have you guys.”

“I can think of…0% of my friends who would stay with me right now.”

Sleep was pretty humorous as well.  Joelle and I each occupied one couch cushion because the surprise sofa bed sank under the weight of little Sydney.

But my favorite part was that the half full pan of pot brownies that was there at dinner was licked clean by the time I went in to try to make myself breakfast.

At least the drive with the windows down to Lake Taupo was refreshing enough.  The outside air felt like a shower, cleaning away the lovely stench of pot that greeted us when we walked in.

Made less boring by our attempt at trailing the boys who left us at a stoplight and behind numerous trucks.  Thanks Kev.

I’m just going to casually enter that we took a minute to listen to the Metallica CD that was left in the Wicked van.  It also happens to be Jordan’s new prized possession, I think.

I kept calling Lake Taupo a beach.  And I would’ve thought it actually was if it wasn’t for the fact that you could see the other side of the shore in the distance (or the fact that it’s called Lake Taupo).  What an adorable little family spot.  We lazed around before Syd’s and my third attempt at getting to a hot springs, and what a disappointment this “natural” attraction was.  Green water in a pool.  With a water slide that Iz thought had an escalator.  Silly Izzi, there are no escalators in the wild.

So more McD’s time for ice cream cones and Wifi and Syd trying to find accommodation while I tried to figure out a plan for the last two days and Izzi looking sleepy and confused during it all while Joelle was being a FB/Instagram whore (“I tried to help [look for a hostel] but… I… didn’t.”)

In the end, staying in Lake Taupo all worked out because the receptionist told us about the free natural hot springs that don’t have an open and close time…and we found a free corn muffin in the kitchen.

Most of the night was spent waiting for the guys outside the hostel and familiarizing ourselves with every road in town looking for the guys for an hour or so because why go soak in hot springs with four when you can go with seven?  Until we just decided to fuck it and buy some chasers at Countdown (where I found 71 cent loaves of bread!) before making the open moonlit trek to the springs, during which Syd scared the shit out of all of us twice with her hearing nonexistent sounds and jumping ten feet into the air and Iz freaked to herself after seeing the dark river water and the person dressed in all black at the bridge.

Surprise, surprise, what we thought was going to be a private party for just us turned into us crashing on a private French party of three…and that one dude in the other pool.

It was boiling hot but so comfortable once you submerged yourself, pitch black if not for the full moon (and the two candles the French people brought), and relaxing with the sound of the little waterfalls.  And the walk back to the car was more toasty than freezing as I expected.  More perfect because I felt like there was a moment (or maybe a couple of moments) when some or all of us… or just me wanted to turn back and crawl into bed at the hostel.  The only thing missing was beer.

Lesson number eleven: sleep is not always better.  This one is more for myself and my koala tendencies.

The rest of the night revolved around a checklist.  1) Finish the remaining ¾ of Izzi’s vodka lest it go to waste.  I’m pretty damn impressed by us considering three of the four of us aren’t big drinkers on the regular.  2) Contact the guys any way we can which involved another trip to McD’s but not before passing the club next door and casually stop in to dance in our PJs (like full on no makeup, Joelle in her moose shorts, Syd in her big sweater, Izzi in her North Face and messy bun, PJs) because “Thriftshop” was playing.

Day eleven, the final day.  It started with a quick trip to Huka Falls along the way after establishing a meeting place in Auckland with the guys, fingers crossed they get it.  Take a couple touristy pictures and move on because we had to return the car by 2pm.  But of course, Izzi spotted their signature Wicked van through the trees as we were driving by.  They turned out to be at a campsite that we had passed the previous night because it looked like an eerie road leading to who-knows-what-kinds-of-dangerous-creatures.  Take a couple touristy pictures with the guys in front of the pretty underwhelming falls and move on because we had to return the car by 2pm.  We parted ways after this so they could go to Coromandel, agreeing to meet for dinner for our formal goodbyes.

The most eventful part of the drive up to Auckland was the buildup of urgency with every construction site, every cattle truck, and our uncomfortable need to pee, stealing away those precious seconds that could mean the difference between a late fee…and not a late fee.

Well…that was until we got pulled over for going 32km/hr over.  Fuck that shit.  My hopes went up a little when the deceivingly-nice old man cop was asking Syd about whether she had had previous offenses on our trip.  He even made a joke about spring vacation in Florida, and I thought maybe repeating that it was our last day in NZ would soften the blow a bit.  Nope.  $300 to Kevin’s $80 ticket.  Not a pretty number unless you are somehow receiving that much.  With only about five minutes to fill up the tank and return the car, I ran, getting tripped up on my toe thongs, to Omega while the girls cleaned Roxy out.  The receptionist looked concerned for me when I darted in, out of breath, trying to formulate a sentence that conveyed that I wanted to return a car.  Made it in at 1:58pm, narrowly avoiding that late fee charge.

Lesson number twelve: (this one’s from my daddy, what he always yells after me as I’m darting in and out of the house) don’t rush.

Not that we had anything planned for Auckland at all, but it all kind of put a damper on our last day.
  Our dependence on McD's free wifi was kind of pathetic, and there wasn’t much else to say.

One final coincidence, though, just as Izzi, Joelle, and I left to wander the city a bit while Syd sat down, the guys appeared in our place.  Is NZ really that small?

Chillaxed on some cushions randomly placed on a lawn because everyone was pretty much ready to leave.  One can only rough it in the wild for so long.

Of course, one last McD’s stop and before we finally left McD’s, “Thriftshop” was playing on the TV.  Just love these constant reminders of how we actually have $20 in our pockets.

Last meal in NZ was the Moroccan lamb sub from Subway as (sort of) intended (it was originally supposed to be the McD’s lamb burger which intrigued me from day one).

And the dude next to me on the plane definitely stole $40 from my purse.  What a little (fat, actually) fucker.  I should’ve guessed there was something odd about him, what with the way he couldn’t stop fidgeting and how he took the opportunity to give me my declaration card the one time I stirred from my slumber.

So I’m 10 pages deep, but I can’t forget to mention that moment between watching the Wellington scenery go by and drifting off to sleep in the backseat.  It was when I fully realized that this semester was exactly what I needed.  It’s refreshing to move from that perpetual feeling that I was just excess baggage in high school.  And it’s nice to spend many months not shitting on myself and my life as I did in college.  It’s one thing to like the people I’m with, but it’s nice to actually like myself when I’m with these people.  Leaving is usually the easy part, and goodbyes were always short and awkward and uncomfortable for me; but I'm going to miss you guys more than you know.

See ya, as they say in Aussieland.